


Stabbed

by Emily_F6



Series: Febuwhump 2020 [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, febuwhump 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: When Peter is stabbed but doesn't want to call Tony, Steve and Sam come to the rescue.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Febuwhump 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664710
Comments: 8
Kudos: 196





	Stabbed

All things considered, this was not Peter's night. Or his day. Honestly, it wasn't really his week. Getting stabbed was just sort of the icing on the cake at this point.

The fight with May over hiding his Spiderman injuries had been the beginning, followed by a hellish week of quizzes and tests he hadn't had time to study for, Flash being more of an asshole than usual, and an Academic Decathlon competition that they'd lost. Because of him. It was starting to feel like too much...he loved being Spiderman! He loved his powers and swinging around the city and helping people! But...maybe May had been right, he thought as he leaned against the wall of the alley, head thrown back. Maybe he needed to make a little more time in his life for things that weren't Spiderman.

But how was he supposed to do that? How was he supposed to step back and let other people die because he wanted better grades? And to spend time with his friends. And his aunt. Peter shook his head. That was the least of his problems at the moment. Yeah, he needed to figure all of that out and maybe talk to May. And he needed to go back into his suit and de-hack Karen because he might have told her not to call Mr. Stark if he wasn't actively dying, and he thought some help might be nice.

The knife was still sticking out of his front, the blade disappearing between his shoulder and his collarbone, and he really needed to do something about it. But going home to May was out of the question. She'd totally freak out if she saw the knife. And he didn't want to bug Mr. Stark. The man already thought he was a kid, even though the man had said he'd been wrong about him after the whole Vulture thing and they'd even started talking sometimes. Like, not much, but sometimes he'd get a call or a text checking in, and a few weeks ago, he'd gotten a (very minor) concussion and Iron Man had come to the rescue. He'd totally blown everything out of proportion, taking Peter to the tower's Medbay and staying by his side for the whole night. And that had been really nice. But still. Mr. Stark had only done it because he felt responsible for Peter, and that wasn't what Peter wanted. He wanted Mr. Stark to...to want to mentor him. To be his...something.

But Mr. Stark was busy. And it was fine. Peter was fine. Everything would be fine. He just had to prove himself to Mr. Stark...that he was a real superhero and capable of taking care of himself. In the meantime, he needed to find a place to pull the knife out and maybe put some kind of pressure on the wound.

Mr. Stark didn't want to be his friend. Or his mentor. That was fine. Peter was fine. He would be fine. Just, he told himself, pull out the knife.

He gripped the handle, taking a deep breath and staring up at the dark sky. It was too smoggy and too bright in the city to see the stars, but he knew they were up there. He tried to focus on that as he held the handle of the kitchen knife that the guy trying to rob a couple of high schoolers had been carrying for some reason. Whatever. It didn't matter. He just needed to pull out the knife.

"Peter, might I suggest you not remove the knife," Karen spoke up for the first time in a while, her voice gentle. "I believe your best line of action would be to call Mr. Stark and inform him that you have been injured. If you remove the knife now, it will be difficult to stop the bleeding."

"It's fine, Karen." The knife hurt. It hurt so much. He just needed to get it out. It felt wrong, like his body was trying to heal around it, and everything hurt! He just needed to get the knife out and then he could put pressure on it and sneak in through his window and everything would be fine.

Peter took a deep breath, head resting against the building behind him...and then he yanked it out.

It hurt even more coming out, and Peter had to bite back a cry of pain, teeth clenched so tightly that he thought he might break out. His stomach turned, but the thought of bending over to throw up was even worse, so he swallowed hard, doing his best to take deep breaths and push back the nausea. A whimper escaped, and he stared up at the sky once more from behind the lenses of his mask, a shaky hand pressing against the bloody mess on his shoulder. His hand opened, and the knife hit the ground with a soft clatter.

"Shit. Fuck. Shit." He hissed. But it didn't help. "Shit." He hissed one more time, tears gathering in his eyes. Suddenly he wasn't just leaning against the wall...it was holding him up, and he found himself sliding until his butt hit the concrete, legs splayed out in front of him. His breathing was too fast, heart racing in his ears, and his whole body seemed to sway as he fought to stay conscious. It wasn't long before his glove was soaked with blood, and Karen was talking to him...urging him to do something, but what?

His head swam and the world spun and he knew suddenly that he needed to get up. He needed to stand and get out of this alley. Reaching back, he grabbed the wall and tried to pull himself up, legs scrambling to support his weight. It sort of worked. He hung from his left hand, legs trembling, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Karen?" He asked, knees literally shaking. "I...I uh…"

"Peter, you need to receive medical attention. Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?"

Was the mask the reason it was so hard to breathe?

"Woah...Spider guy?"

The words took him by surprise but his body was slow to react. His left arm hung useless at his side, and he tried to stare at the person and figure out who they were, but suddenly they were right beside him and he was leaning on them...his knees had buckled, he realized. "Woah...woah, man? Hey...are you…"

Peter blinked, mouth open as he tried to get more air. He wasn't getting enough air and his heart was beating so fast. "I'm...I'm…" He tried, his voice a weak croak, and the guy said something else. Something soft that he didn't understand. "I can't...can't breathe…"

"Okay. Hey, why don't you sit down? Steve? It's Tony's guy...the Spider one. He's hurt. Bring me a first aid kit."

Not sure who the man was talking to, Peter let him ease him down to the ground and place a firm hand against his left shoulder. Blinking to try and clear his vision, Peter stared at the guy until it came to him. He was wearing a baseball cap pulled down over his face, along with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, but he recognized him. "You...you're...Falcon…"

"Yeah, and you're bleeding. Hang on, Steve is bringing a first aid kit. We're going to help."

"I can't breathe…" Peter pressed his good hand to his chest and swayed on the ground, head falling back against the brick wall.

"Were you hit anywhere else?"

"Falcon…"

"Call me Sam. Were you hit anywhere else?"

"Sam, I can't…" Knowing it was probably a bad idea but not able to remember why, Peter grabbed the bottom of his mask and yanked it off, dropping it at his side and gasping, trying to get more air. When he opened his eyes a crack to look at the man crouched beside him, Sam Wilson was staring at him, wide-eyed. "I can't breathe." This time it came out as more of a plea, and the man shook himself.

"I think it's just the blood loss. Are you dizzy?"

Peter nodded, trying to hum out a yes and possibly failing.

"Can you call Stark?" Peter only blinked at him. "Tony. Can you call Tony? Iron Man? Tell him you're hurt? He can get you some help. I'm guessing you're enhanced because normal people can't stick to walls."

"He's...he's busy...Sam he...doesn't want to…" Peter's tongue was heavy and too big in his mouth.

The man softened a little. "Alright, kid. What's your name?"

"'M Peter."

"Alright, Peter. We're going to fix you up, and then we're going to get you somewhere safe, okay? Do you parents know that you do this whole superhero thing?"

"Dead." Peter muttered, dark spots appearing at the edge of his vision, making the world look like the end of a tunnel. "They...they died."

"Okay. Guardians? Who do you live with?"

"My aunt. She...she's right...I shouldn't have…" He hoped that Sam knew where that sentence was going, because suddenly talking was too hard, and then footsteps were approaching. Sam angled himself in front of Peter, glancing over his shoulder until the person was closer, and then he relaxed a bit.

"He's lost a lot of blood, Steve. Do we have fluids back at the safe house?"

"Wait...how old is.."

"Steve! Focus! He's going to pass out and we need to get him back to the safe house. Do we have fluids?"

"We...yeah. Yeah, I think so."

Their words were moving farther and farther away, and Peter let his eyes shut, giving up on watching to see what would happen. One of them was pressing hard on his shoulder and it hurt, but not as bad as it had been. Not long after, someone was scooping him up and carrying him and his head was resting on their shoulder while a hand kept pressure on his arm. "Peter? Try and stay with us."

But he couldn't. Try as he might, the darkness was just too warm and he had to slip into it.

When he woke, the world was dark. One second, he was sound asleep. The next, someone was talking. But not to him. Peter blinked into the darkness, listening to a familiar woman's voice.

"I had to!"

"You told him where we were?" Someone else demanded.

"Of course not! I told him we had Peter."

"What if he tracks the suit?"

"Look, Tony is responsible for that kid. I couldn't let him think…"

"I asked Peter if he could call Stark. The kid said Tony was too busy."

There was a long silence as Peter tried to make sense of it all. Had he said that? Probably. But it was true. Mr. Stark was busy and he hadn't wanted to bother him.

They kept talking, and then there were two fingers pressed against his wrist. "Peter?"

He opened his eyes, jumping a little and realizing he must have dozed off. Sam was sitting beside him, and he put his wrist down, then pricked his finger. Peter flinched, looking down to find Sam holding something...a little black device. "Your blood sugar is still pretty low. Here." He reached for something on the table and it took Peter a moment to recognize a bottle of soda. "Take a drink."

"Oh." Peter muttered, doing as he'd asked. "Thanks."

"How are you feeling?"

Peter looked around. It was a little lighter in there now, and he could see that he was laying on a bed in a room with no windows, but the door was propped open and there was a light on in the other room. "I...where are we?"

"Safe house. Secret safe house. So don't go telling anyone about it, huh?"

"Okay." He rubbed a hand over his face, then glanced down at his shoulder. It was bandaged, and someone had cut away part of his suit.

"You feel okay?"

"I think so."

"Good." Sam took the bottle and placed it on the bedside table. "Natasha called Tony. He wants us to meet him. He's going to take you to the tower and get you checked out.

"I don't need to…"

Sam held up a hand. "Doesn't matter. You're his responsibility and he wants to make sure you're okay."

"I'm…" Peter sighed, dropping his eyes. "I don't...he doesn't want me to be his responsibility." He whispered, cheeks flushing. "He…" He thought about those months of silene and the unreturned calls and how stupid he'd felt...how Mr. Stark had offered him a spot on the Avengers and he'd turned him down and how he'd barely heard from him since. "He's busy." Peter finally managed, refusing to meet Sam's eyes.

Sam took a deep breath, then reached out, patting the top of Peter's hand. "He was really freaked out. When he found out that you'd gotten stabbed, and that you'd disabled your tracker...which you've apparently done before, he was...upset." Peter flinched a bit. "But mostly, he was scared. And look, I'm not saying that I have any idea what it's like to be a teenage superhero. Hell, kid, I didn't know there was such a thing. And god knows I have my issues with Tony Stark. But he's worried about you. And...he really cares about you, kid." He brought a hand up and patted Peter's good shoulder.

In the end, it was Sam that drove him to the agreed-upon meeting spot. Mr. Stark was waiting for him in his own car, and as soon as they'd parked, he was jumping out of the car. Sam nodded to Peter, unlocking the door. "Hey, kid? One question."

"Yeah?"

"That web stuff...does that come out of you?"

Forgetting all about his nerves for a moment, Peter grinned. "No. I make it in chemistry."

"Like...in your high school chemistry class?"

He nodded. "Yeah, when the teacher isn't looking."

Sam snorted, ruffling his hair. "Good to know. See you around kid."

As soon as Peter stepped out of the car, Mr. Stark was there, reaching out and grabbing his good shoulder, not touching his bandaged arm but giving it a close look. After looking him up and down, the man looked past him to Sam, giving an almost reluctant nod, then leading Peter over to his car, an arm around his shoulders.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Stark asked softly, and Peter slouched in his seat.

"I'm fine. I can go home…"

"I already called May and told her you were coming to the tower for suit repairs." He didn't sound angry. Just tired. And Peter closed his eyes, resting his head against the window.

"I'm sorry."

Mr. Stark was quiet for a moment. And then he slowed the car, pulling off the side of the road and parking by the sidewalk. Peter stared out the window, trying to make himself small. Finally, the other man spoke.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I...I didn't…"

"I know your AI told you to call me. I know that you know how bad it was. So why didn't you just call me?"

"Didn't want to bother you." Peter mumbled, slouched in his seat.

Mr. Stark took a deep breath, then Peter felt his hand on his knee. "Pete? Hey, look at me for a sec."

Peter did, swallowing hard and trying to keep his face neutral. "Yeah?"

"I'm never too busy for you. Okay?"

He lowered his eyes then, eyes getting hot for no apparent reason, but Mr. Stark squeezed his leg. "I'm serious. I know that we...that we had a rough start. And I know that I wasn't there when you needed me. But I should have been. And I'm never too busy for you. Especially not if you're hurt. I'm never going to be upset with you for needing help. Everyone needs help, Pete."

Peter sniffed again and nodded.

"Come here." The man leaned in, reaching his arms out. "I'm not getting the door. This is a hug. We're there. Come on."

Peter leaned his head against Mr. Stark's shoulder, hesitantly lifting his good arm to return the hug, trying to subtly wipe his eyes on his own shoulder, but Mr. Stark just squeezed him, patting his back. "You scared me, kid."

"Sorry." He whispered.

"Don't be sorry. Just call me next time. Okay?" He pulled away, one hand on Peter's shoulder, the other clasping his arm.

Peter nodded. "Okay."

"Alright, Underoos. Let's get you back to the tower."


End file.
